


Dawn crowns her in gold

by Myulalie, PisangGoreng



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Curse Breaking, Curses, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Curses, Femslash February, Fox!Magnus, Legend of Zelda References, Magical Artifacts, Pining, Quests, Rescue Missions, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myulalie/pseuds/Myulalie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PisangGoreng/pseuds/PisangGoreng
Summary: On the day celebrating the truce between the fae and the people of Idris, the Seelie Queen curses Princess Helen. When Aline fails to protect the woman she loves, she finds herself locked in a cell with her childhood friend Alec, slowly dying from poison, and the warlock Magnus Bane. Magnus himself is trapped in the body of a fox, and joins forces with Aline to find the Mortal Instruments and rescue the people they love before they run out of time.The tale of a fox and a blacksmith’s daughter, determined to break the grueling curse that afflicts them all.
Relationships: Helen Blackthorn/Aline Penhallow, Magnus Bane & Aline Penhallow, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18
Collections: SHBingo 20-21





	Dawn crowns her in gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PisangGoreng](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PisangGoreng/gifts).



> A **Legend of Zelda story** , but make it Heline and Malec.
> 
> Spark and I are delighted to share our collab for this fic! You can find Spark [on tumblr](https://spark-draws.tumblr.com/), please make sure to shower them with love in the comments too!
> 
> Biggest thanks to [A_Taupe_Fox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Taupe_Fox) for beta-reading.
> 
>  **Bingo squares:**  
>  Spark — _hunt_ (Aline & Magnus artwork) and _body swap_ (artwork of Helen and Aline as Link and Zelda)  
>   
> Myu — _curses_ (with the fic).

_A long, long time ago, when the fae of Brocelind Forest were at war with the kingdom of Idris, both on the verge of being swallowed by demons, the Hero of Men drank from the Mortal Cup. He seized the Mortal Sword and, with wisdom and courage, drove out the darkness._

_When peace had been restored, the people of Idris enshrined the sword and the cup with care… Then, they took a faerie princess among their own. Her status would honor the alliance with the fae, and they would celebrate once a year, inviting the Seelie Queen to the Guard, and with her, the fae to take part in the annual festival in Alicante._

_Nowadays…_  
Something crashes against the window pane, a sharp impact on the already abused glass. Aline jolts out of her bed, afraid someone broke in through the window of her bedroom, and wakes up to the delightful sight of the Princess of Idris, smiling widely in the morning light. 

Dawn crowns Helen in gold, and pointy ears poke out of her blond curls, the sign of her royal lineage. A turquoise blue rupee shines on her forehead, the centerpiece of her golden tiara, with white wings curving into her hair.

The wooden floors creak as Aline tip-toes towards the window and tugs on the latch, struggling with the rusty lock. A chilly breeze brushes past her as she opens the window, and Helen climbs inside with a giggle and the rustle of her white dress. The luxurious fabric of her dress and gloves is covered in unflattering stains already.

Aline’s heart misses a beat when she hears Helen’s merry laugh, bells chiming in the blonde’s voice. She has always loved Helen’s carefree attitude, how the blonde, despite being a princess, treats Aline like an equal. Helen doesn’t behave like a princess, most of the time. She doesn’t care much about her clothes, and Aline can relate. She can’t bring herself to have any interest in pretty dresses, except maybe when Helen wears them, because the princess looks so beautiful in those.

“Be careful!” Aline can’t help but chide her, “What are you doing here anyway? The Prime Minister will be furious that you ran off again!”

“What is he gonna do? Give me another lecture?” Helen replies, scoffing. “Jonathan is covering for me,” she wanders inside, “I want to go to the festival with you!”

Aline feels her cheeks heating up at the bold statement. She wants to go with Helen too, but she never hoped the princess would like that. Helen is too kind to brush anyone off, and Aline knows if there is one rejection she could take, it’s the princess’. Helen would let her down gently, and Aline would remain helplessly in love with the blonde.

She ducks her head at the thought, and ties her hair into a ponytail, hanging low on her neck, before moving across the wooden floors to get ready for the day. The bedroom is nothing more than that, a room, with a bed, but it’s all she has and she’s happy with it. Aline grabs her clothes from the small chest tucked away in a corner.

“I promised you that we would go together,” she replies, glancing at Helen over her shoulder.

At least Helen thought things through for once. Although, Aline always feels like the Prime Minister’s son, Jonathan, looks like he’s up to something. He’s always willing to help, with his air of self-importance, but only there is something to be gained in exchange of Jonathan’s benevolence. Aline doesn’t trust him. She fears that when Jonathan becomes Prime Minister, he’ll ask Helen to give back his many favors. 

Valentine — the Prime Minister — is good to Helen, he lectures her and forces her to sit through hours of political business, but he lets her get away with her escapades to meet with Aline. Aline, who feels responsible for the favors Helen keeps asking from Jonathan.

“I’ll say hi to your parents, don’t take too long!” the princess says, and winks.

Helen clutches the side of her skirt to run downstairs. Aline can’t help but stare after the princess, the long braid of blonde hair swinging down Helen’s back, and the curve of her hips, highlighted by the dress. Is Aline really going to the festival with this beautiful girl?

Since the Seelie Queen admitted defeat centuries ago, the fae come to Alicante once a year to sell their herbal remedies and jewelry, among other goods. They buy from the people of Idris too, and Alicante comes alive with foreign smells and tastes for the day, shiny fabric hanging from the stalls around Angel Square. The evening ends with a ceremony to celebrate the peace between their people, something Helen has to attend. There is no time to lose.

Aline slips her green tunic on, before tugging her linen slacks into her brown boots. She puts her green hat on then, and hears metal clanging as her father forges swords and helmets downstairs. Her mother is probably in the shop already, getting everything ready for the festival. 

She goes there first, and listens to Helen chatting to Jia about the blades they sell. Aline’s father forged Helen’s own sword too, and Aline has been training with the princess for years in order to teach Helen about sword fighting. The blonde is a gifted pupil, and not above fighting dirty. Aline has little left to teach Helen now. It’s up to the princess to keep practicing, and gain experience.

The shop is cluttered with weapon racks and armor stacked against the walls. Aline’s mother, — whom she looks a lot like, with short dark hair, tawny, beige skin and a round face — leans over the counter to tell Helen more about the difference between a typical sword and a seraph blade.

“Seraph blades are shorter, and traditionally used in official ceremonies,” Aline comments, walking up to them.

“Exactly,” Jia praises, her eyes crinkling with pride, “and you shall take a sword with you to ensure Helen’s safety since she’s the princess.”

Aline nods, but Helen rolls her eyes — blue-green like the water of Lake Lyn at the height of summer — and the blonde seizes a blade of her own to challenge Aline with a diagonal slash and a flourish. 

Aline steps aside out of instinct, reaching for her usual sword, and spins on her feet to press it against Helen’s dainty throat. She tips the princess’ chin up with the sharp edge of her sword, and Helen drops her weapon. The blade refracts the light, as well as the colorful complexion of the blonde, whose cheekbones are shaking with a stifled laugh, and slightly flushed like a peach left in the sun.

Helen is beautiful, Aline can’t help but think.

“Today is not the day you surpass me,” she smiles, and her eyes drop to Helen’s heaving chest, golden jewelry moving with her every exhale.

“Girls,” Jia chastises them.

Aline tears her eyes away from Helen’s bosom and the magenta corset covering it. The fabric parts on the princess’ waist, where the Kingdom of Idris' diamond shaped insignia — the enkeli — and banner hang from a golden belt. Helen is part faerie, as all princesses are, and the jewelry she wears is a testimony of her rank.

Aline might know Helen better than most, but she remains the daughter of a blacksmith. She’s no match for the princess.

Helen was supposed to marry Alec Lightwood, and Aline was there to witness it. The Lightwoods and the Penhallows have been friends for generations, and as Helen’s tutor when it comes to sword fighting, Aline couldn’t think of a single excuse not to attend. Only the truth would have convinced her parents to let her stay home.

She doesn’t regret going though, because Alec left Helen at the altar to kiss Magnus Bane, a warlock, instead. Helen hadn’t seemed pained by that, and Aline is fairly sure the princess even encouraged Alec to throw himself at the other man.

Yet, Aline never dared asking whom Helen wished to marry, or if she wished to marry at all. They’re friends, the closest friends, and she fears Helen would confide in her. Aline can’t trust herself not to confess her feelings if it comes down to that, and it would ruin their friendship. Helen would stop breaking the rules to spend time with Aline, and they would never see each other again. Aline can’t stand the thought of losing her.

It was one thing to watch Helen marry Alec, knowing they weren’t in love, but Aline doesn’t think she can face it again. What if Helen wants to marry? Worse, what if Helen would like to marry a woman, a woman that is never going to be Aline? Aline fears the reply to such questions. She’s better off being friends with Helen, if it’s the only thing they can be.

“Let’s go!” Helen exclaims, cutting Aline’s musings short.

The princess grabs Aline’s hand and drags her outside with one last wave to bid Jia goodbye. Aline barely has time to sheathe her sword onto her back before they stumble out of the narrow street leading to the Penhallows’ forge and onto the cobblestones of Angel Square.

Their palms are pressed together in the most delightful way and Aline basks in the warmth as they hold hands. The chatter of Alicante’s inhabitants going about their day at the festival surrounds them as soon as they wander among the stalls.

It’s bustling with life, and Aline can’t quite register what is on display as Helen rushes from one stall to the other. Aline follows along, watching Helen’s blonde curls of hair flying this way and that, as she whips her head around to take in everything around them. 

The fae, with their pointy ears, pay Helen their respect every time she stops by their shops, but the princess refuses all their gifts with a smile. Helen’s grin is a ray of sunshine that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle like the surface of Lake Lyn when the sun hangs high above the water. 

The hands of the clock scamper around the dial above their heads as time flies, and they come to a stop at the annual lottery stall, where a tall man with long black hair awaits. Meliorn — a faerie — smiles at the sight of Helen and nods in greeting. He holds a glass jar with several rolled up parchments inside, and a golden bell sits on the table next to him.

“Your Royal Highness, if you would?” he offers the jar to her in order to draw a number at random.

“It would be my pleasure,” Helen agrees, giving a curtsy.

She dips her gloved hand inside the jar to choose her parchment carefully, and the blacksmith’s daughter bites her lower lip at the sight of Helen’s tongue poking between her lips in concentration. 

Aline misses the princess’ hands in hers, though. She wishes they could hold hands more often, because even when training Helen, Aline never allowed herself to touch the princess out of turn. At least, not when she did not need to, and by now sword fighting has few secrets for Helen. Aline has no reason to stand close to the blonde anymore.

Once the minute hand has gone round the dial, Helen makes up her mind for one of the parchments and draws it out gingerly, unfolding it as soon as it’s out of the jar. She and Aline barely catch sight of the number written on it before Meliorn jingles the bell.

“We have a winner! Congratulations your Royal Highness! What will it be? This beautiful locket,” he points at a heart-shaped ruby encased in beautiful swirls of gold, “this magnificent gem,” he produces a giant red rupee, “or maybe this sturdy shield?”

“You can’t be serious,” Helen protests, “you did it on purpose!”

Meliorn shrugs and gestures for her to make her choice.

Aline smells freshly baked goods around them, and she knows Helen will cave in anyhow, accepting the offerings just to get a taste of some of the dishes later. She smiles at the thought, and looks at the small shield with interest. It’s a simple design with strong metal to reinforce it.

The princess dismisses the jewelry and gem too, and points resolutely at her prize.

“Alright. I want the shield!”

Aline steps closer to Helen in order to get a better look at faerie craftsmanship, and the princess leans into her without hesitation. Helen’s body fits in the dips and valleys of Aline’s, an all too-familiar weight already, and a warmth Aline wants to bask in forever. Helen smells of salt and flowers, the wild coasts of far away kingdoms.

Meliorn grabs the shield among his prizes and gives it to the blonde, who grins impishly. Helen immediately turns to Aline, her hair flying over her shoulder, smelling of tundra, to push the shield into Aline’s hands.

“You’ll need it to protect me,” Helen states boldly, “thank you Meliorn.”

Aline chuckles and shakes her head, but doesn’t argue. Helen thanks Meliorn again and runs off to the next stall, leaving Aline with the faerie. The blacksmith’s daughter stares after Helen, like she often does, and smiles as the princess’ dress billows around her.

The clock is ticking above their head, the hands going on their merry way till the end of the day. Aline gives a longing sigh, one that does little to alleviate the overbearing love that weighs on her heart, and eventually turns to Meliorn to offer him the shield. People are whispering behind her, but Aline doesn’t let it deter her.

“Can I exchange it for the heart-shaped locket?”

“Take them both,” Meliorn replies gravely, pressing the pendant into the palm of her hand. 

He pats her shoulder next, and Aline is left staring awkwardly while holding onto a shield and a heart-shaped locket. People brush past her on their way to different stalls, and she can hear Helen calling her name a bit further away.

The Guard looms over Angel Square, and Aline glances at the colonnade that hides the back entrance. Helen needs to be back before her curfew. The princess has to take part in the traditional ceremony to celebrate the end of the war. Aline nods to herself with that thought in mind, and when she turns around, she catches sight of the blonde waving. She adds the shield on her back with the sword, and shoves the pendant in her pocket. 

Aline will gift it to Helen tonight and thank her for spending the day together, she decides, before running up to the princess.

  


* * *

  


They hurry towards The Guard when Angel Square grows quiet and the sky darkens with the beginning of the evening. Helen leads the way up the side of the cliff, clutching the sides of her skirt around her waist, and the clock tower ticks in the distance still, a relentless reminder that Helen has to be in the throne room soon. Aline follows, looking around warily, but Helen knows the path by heart from sneaking out in secret more often than not. Aline trusts her.

There is something different about Alicante tonight, probably because of the festival. The lights are still bright behind them, down in Angel Square, but Aline can’t shake off the feeling that something is wrong. Her fingers itch to wrap around the hilt of her sword, and she snatches Helen’s free hand instead. Helen squeezes back, a small comfort in the darkness as they climb the steps up the cliff, to the back entrance of The Guard.

“Hurry,” Aline whispers as she catches up and moves in front of the princess. “You can’t be late to the celebration.”

“Jonathan is covering for me,” Helen pants in reply.

They stumble onto the last step and under the colonnade, but instead of the back door Helen usually slips through after curfew, blood red ivy climbs along the wall, covering the entrance. The white stone shines like starlight in between the bloody leaves, and a gust of wind whistles through the pillars surrounding them. There is no way Helen can make her way inside now, Aline realizes as she moves closer.

“Aline, there is someone here,” Helen breathes out behind her.

Aline swivels around and steps in front of the princess out of instinct. She unfastens the shield from her back and stands in between Helen and a tall woman Aline doesn’t recognize. Aline raises the shield higher, crouching behind it and protecting Helen with her own body too. She can’t let anything happen to Helen. Aline would never forgive herself, she thinks as blood rushes into her ears and she makes to grab her sword.

The stranger is blocking the way to the stairs, standing tall and proud on the landing and her face is hidden behind a curtain of scarlet hair. She wears a loose toga, draped over her shoulder, and a golden circlet on her head like a crown of thorns.

“Who are you? Are you responsible for this?” Aline asks with more confidence than she really feels.

“Are you an enemy of the Kingdom of Idris?” Helen adds, pressed against her back.

“And who are you?” the woman parrots Aline, “how lovely, the princess got her very own Hero. Here I thought I had taken care of the Hero of Men already. Oh well, you’ll keep him company. I can’t let either of you ruin my plans.”

The woman waves her hand coldly, unconcerned with the shield Aline and Helen hide behind. Bright lights gather in her hand like swirling leaves, and the wind howls all around. Aline tenses as she feels an incommensurate force pushing her aside, and it sends the woman’s hair flying too, revealing pointy ears and a very familiar face.

“The Seelie Queen!” Helen exclaims.

The wind hurls past Aline again and she’s thrown aside, tossed against the blood red ivy without any chance to resist. She drops her sword and slides down the wall with a huff, out of breath from the painful impact. Aline sinks helplessly to the ground in a heap of limbs and weapons, the shield abandoned next to her. She reaches for it as she scrambles to her feet, or at least tries to, but she misses the shield and falls to the ground again.

The Seelie Queen twists her fingers like claws, threatening to tighten around Helen’s slender neck next, and a swirling sphere of magic erupts from her palm.

“No!” Aline rushes to Helen’s side. 

Her attempt is thwarted by the ivy, wrapping around her legs and arms, to hold her back.

The sphere flashes across the colonnade and hits the princess square in the chest. It connects without a sound, and for a mere moment, Helen is surrounded by golden light, like dawn is breaking between her breasts and spreading to bring Alicante into the light again. A peculiar, out of place enkeli rune shines on her chest and beats in time with the princess’ heart.

Aline failed Helen, but she holds onto the desperate hope that the spell failed too. It’s the least she can do, after leaving Helen at the mercy of the Seelie Queen, but in a matter of seconds, the diamond shaped rune fades and disappears. Green moss crawls up Helen’s dress, and the fabric frays like fallen leaves. Her skin takes on a worrying rugged texture as the curse spreads over her sharp cheekbones. It hardens into wood, finally reaching her hair, the slender leaves of a weeping willow falling down her back.

The last thing Aline sees is Helen’s face: frozen in disbelief, and her eyes, dark and empty like the surface of Lake Lyn at night.

  


* * *

  


Aline wakes up in the underground of The Guard, locked up in a cell. The ground is freezing beneath her and Aline finds her green hat, full of wrinkles, on the floor near her. She fumbles with it, her hands shaking still, and puts it on in an attempt to fend off the cold. Then, she sits up, pushing on her hands to lean with her back against the wall. They didn’t chain her, at least.

Not that they need too, Aline thinks restlessly. She breathes in deeply and blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to the dim light of the dungeon. She failed Helen, and the princess is nowhere to be seen. Aline was useless back then with her shield and sword.

What could she do now, with dirty hair falling over her eyes and her body hurting all over from lying in the cold? What happened while she was out of it?

In the cell next to hers, an older man sleeps, curled up on himself to keep warm. Aline can’t see his face, but his clothes speak of wealth, and she suspects he’s a nobleman. The cells are just cages aligned on one side of the corridor, and she looks away from the stranger.

Aline can see her sword and shield on the other side of the corridor, among familiar weapons: her father forged them for the Lightwoods.

A death rattle echoes in the other cell, the one she hasn’t looked at yet. Aline turns to look and finds Alec holding onto the bars, leaning heavily on his side. He doesn’t pay her any attention, looking down on a heap of orange fur on the cell furthest from Aline’s instead. It looks like a fox, but Aline doesn’t linger on the peculiar prisoner: Alec looks worse for wear.

“Alec? What happened?”

Alec’s head rolls to the side, revealing a strange mark on his neck. It crawls on his skin — too pale, sickly white —, spreading a little higher with each passing second and Aline has to repress a shudder. The sight is disgusting, and Alec’s glassy eyes do nothing to placate her growing dread.

“The Seelie Queen,” Alec whispers, “she thought I was the Hero of Men. She poisoned me, and when Magnus tried to...” 

He starts coughing and curls up onto himself, pointing helplessly at the fox in the next cell. It is indeed a fox, and it nuzzles Alec’s arm through the bars, whining. Its ears are flat on its orange head, pierced with three golden rings, and intelligent eyes peer at Aline as Alec finally resumes breathing normally. 

Fur curls up between the fox’ ears like a mohawk, with black streaks of hair among the orange. The irises of the fox are slit in the middle, and recognition flashes through those amber eyes when it locks gazes with Aline.

“Magnus?” she breathes out in surprise.

“Yes,” the fox replies.

It hurts to see him locked in a cell. Aline has always felt some sort of kinship with the warlock. He was about to watch Alec marry Helen too, Aline’s mirror image, and she’s glad Magnus got his happy ending. Oh well, he had it for a while, she thinks bitterly.

She retches, struggling to breath with the vertigo that threatens to make her faint again. She shoves her hands in the pockets of her linen pants to warm up, and her fingers wrap around the heart-shaped locket Meliorn gave her earlier today. 

Helen is somewhere, out there, trapped in wood, and Aline can’t do anything to break the curse. It’s too late, and she holds onto the pendant to keep from panicking. She wishes she could go back in time when she takes the pendant out of her pocket. Even in the semi-darkness of the dungeon, it glows in red and gold.

It would have looked lovely on Helen, Aline thinks bitterly. 

She never got a chance to give the locket to the princess. Helen, turned into a wood figure by the Seelie Queen. Aline closes her eyes with a deep sigh and hugs herself to keep warm, holding the pendant close to her chest. She failed Helen, and this is all she has left of the princess now.

“Why are you here?” Magnus asks from the other side of the bars between him and Alec’s cell.

“The Seelie Queen wanted to get rid of Helen, ‘for good measure’ she said. I happened to be there. She’s planning a coup, isn’t she?” Aline replies tiredly.

“Seems so,” another voice echoes.

Aline turns around to look at the other prisoner. Now that the older man is awake, she recognizes him in spite of the dirt and grime on his face: Valentine Morgenstern, the Prime Minister. Aline gapes at him. 

He’s a ruthless man, always with the interest of Idris at heart. He doesn’t cut Helen any slack when it comes to politics. Maybe he should have, Aline thinks bitterly, considering the state the princess is in now. 

Helen never had the opportunity to enjoy herself, as he made her sit through hours long lectures. For once, Helen had the chance to go out before the ceremony, and look what happened... It’s all Aline’s fault. 

“She didn’t think this through though,” Magnus muses. “Alec is not the Hero of Men.”

Alec leans heavily against the bars of his cell still, and pays Valentine little attention. Aline looks between him and Magnus, but the warlock is watching Alec intently, keeping an eye on him. The fox looks sad and frightened, but Aline can’t help peering at them. If there is any chance to save Helen still, and if Magnus knows something… then Aline needs to know too.

“If not Alec, whom? How do we even recognize the Hero of Men?”

“The enkeli, it should appear somewhere on their body,” Valentine explains.

“Helen has one, because she’s the princess right?” Aline recalls, fiddling with the locket.

“Yes, and the Seelie Queen would have reclaimed the second one. The spirit of the Hero should have reincarnated now that Idris is in danger again,” the Prime Minister whispers.

Aline always wondered why the enkeli was the emblem of the kingdom. It makes sense now. They all know the legends of the incarnation of hatred taking possession of the Seelie Queen, centuries ago. The Hero of Men drove out the darkness in her heart, and they celebrate the truce between the fae and the people of Idris today.

Valentine’s eyes shine in the dim light of the dungeon when he looks up again, but Aline can’t lock eyes with him. She’s a lowly blacksmith’s daughter, not fit to interact with the Prime Minister. She shouldn’t have been around Helen either, and only got the chance because she taught the princess sword fighting. 

As for Valentine, he should have been seeing to the ceremony tonight, what is he doing here? This is a nightmare, the festival is supposed to celebrate peace… Aline knows the legend, and when you meet warlocks like Magnus, there is no denying that Idris is quite magical. It’s the first time she has come so close to the mythical powers of her people’s past though.

“Helen said Jonathan was covering for her while we were at the festival,” she tells him, if only to hold onto happier memories, “only he could have told the Seelie Queen where Helen would be, and when.”

“Yes,” Valentine’s voice booms with anger in the dungeon. “My own son betrayed me, and the Seelie Queen threatens the kingdom once again.”

“What happened to Helen?” Alec asks, and starts coughing again.

“The Seelie Queen turned her into a wooden statue,” Aline admits bitterly. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“A curse,” Magnus sighs, “like me.”

“Is there any way...” Aline doesn’t dare ask.

“The Mortal Sword should be able to break it, and the Mortal Cup could cure Alec too,” Valentine offers. “They’re hidden in the shrine in the middle of Lake Lyn.”

Locked up in the cells like they are, they have no way to cross Lake Lyn and enter the shrine that had held the Mortal Instruments since the end of the war. There is no hope left then. Aline closes her eyes and brings the pendant to her lips, pressing a trembling kiss to the heart-shaped locket.

She wishes she had confessed her feelings to Helen when she had the chance. This morning when they were play fighting in the forge maybe, or even in the middle of Alicante when Helen won the lottery. What was Aline thinking? She should have tried, she loves Helen; the fierce woman that never backs down from a duel and the unruly princess that climbs up to Aline’s window.

Who does that anyway? Of course Helen feels something too, else she wouldn’t face the Prime Minister’s wrath just to see Aline.

Aline feels so silly for second guessing herself this morning when now, she’ll never have a chance to kiss Helen. She can barely remember how it felt to hold hands with Helen earlier, and wishes she had never let go of the princess’ hand. They would have been cursed together, at least.

Aline’s hands feel warmer somehow, and when she opens her eyes again, she finds her right hand glowing with a golden halo. Aline almost drops the locket in her hast to take a closer look, and discovers the enkeli on the back of her hand.

“Aline, I think,” Magnus whispers.

“You’re the Hero of Men,” Valentine says with reverence, and promptly falls to his knees to pray.

“We need to get you out of here, and Alec would be better lying in bed anyway. I know someone who can stall the poison while we find the Mortal Instruments,” Magnus immediately starts planning.

“How?” Aline asks, thinking of the enkeli that mysteriously appeared on her hand.

Could it be? Has the spirit of the Hero chosen her? Nobody answers the question, and she doesn’t ask. Magnus is miles away from this miracle. They can worry about the enkeli later, once they’re free.

“I’ll distract the guard, just… lay low, and hide the glow.”

Magnus steps away from Alec with reluctance, and starts whining again, louder as time goes by and no guard comes. He sits in the middle of his cell, his fluffy tail wrapped neatly around his front paws, and rocks back and forth as he screams. 

“Come down here and make him stop!” the Prime Minister yells, playing along.

Aline doesn’t think it will work, the strategy is as old as time itself, but she does as she’s told, shoving her hand in her pocket, and holding onto the locket for courage. She changes her mind in mere seconds: the gekkering is horrifying. 

Valentine keeps up with the charade, calling for a guard to come and put a stop to Magnus’ ruckus. Aline peers at them in surprise when a guard finally comes down and approaches Magnus’ cell, jingling the keys. The guard pushes the key in the lock and slams the door open, walking inside the cell and throwing his leg back to kick the fox.

“Will you shut up?”

Magnus ducks past the guard’s leg, orange fur flashing off the man’s shining armor, and bounces out of the cell. Magic comes to life under his paws, sparks of red and yellow like fire sparkling against the guard’s breastplate, and the man falls back with a cry. 

The door slams shut, locking the guard inside. The fox snatches the keys from the lock and goes to free Aline next. She bursts out of her cell, opening the door to Valentine’s cell too so that he can help her carry Alec out.

“Guards! Guards, the prisoners are escaping!” the guard calls for help.

They hurry out of Alec’s cell as Magnus darts down the corridor to look out for reinforcements. Aline grabs her sword and shield from the weapon rack, and takes Alec’s bow and quiver on second thought. She needs all she can find if they plan to get out of The Guard alive and even better, save Alec and rescue Helen. Aline is proficient with a bow anyway, and she tests its weight as she moves, joining Magnus to lead the way out. 

She nocks an arrow and she rounds a corner, the fox weaving between her legs. A guard comes running to the rescue of his colleague, and catches sight of them escaping. He aims his spear at them and charges with a yell, but Aline can’t afford to let him give their position away. She refuses to, not now that they have hope, and the means to stop the Seelie Queen’s scheme. She shoots him, and the man stops dead in his tracks. The arrow protrudes from his chest, and Aline gags when she realizes he is, in fact, dead.

She stumbles, but doesn’t let go of the bow. There is no time to reel from the shock now, not if she doesn’t want to be thrown back in her cell. Alec needs medical assistance now, and if there is any way Aline can break Helen’s curse… She steps around the guard, the taste of guilt bitter on her tongue, and moves further into the corridor.

“Magnus, can you do more magic tricks?” Aline calls.

Magnus flicks his tail and the torches flicker and dim, but nothing else happens. He shakes his head regretfully, glancing at Alec as Valentine follows closely behind them. Aline keeps moving down the corridor, gray stone all around and the intermittent light of the fire revealing familiar tapestries that retell the story of their people. Alec’s loud heaving is the only sound betraying their presence in the surprisingly empty castle.

“I don’t trust him,” Magnus whispers, nodding towards Valentine.

“Me neither,” Aline replies just as low.

“My friend will keep an eye on him while we go to Lake Lyn,” Magnus adds.

He peers at Alec again, obviously worried, but Aline doesn’t look back, busy keeping watch as they make their way out. She trusts Magnus, because Alec loves this man and she has been friends with Alec since they were toddlers. The fox’s mystery friends must be warlocks, and they are more than equipped to watch Valentine.

They’re almost at the back entrance of The Guard, and Aline slows down at the sight of the ivy covering the doorway. She remembers the blood red vines grabbing at her, holding her back when she tried to protect Helen. They are vicious things, and Aline refuses to fail again.

She grabs an arrow from the quiver, and tears a piece of her tunic off to wrap it around the arrow head. Aline moves closer to one of the torches hanging from the wall to set the head on fire. Then, she nocks the arrow and sends it flying towards the ivy in the doorway. It goes up in flames instantly. The blood red leaves disappear, and smoke swirls up in the sky as they hurry across the colonnade.

Helen has been moved somewhere else, Aline notes. She was not in a cell either — not that the princess needs to be locked up—, and Aline refuses to worry about it just yet. The Seelie Queen has no reason to hurt Helen now, the princess was successfully pushed out of the way.

All in due time, Aline decides. She’ll worry about Helen’s location when she has a way to break the curse. For now, she and Valentine drag Alec down the stairs and away from Alicante, following Magnus into the forest that surrounds the city.

  


* * *

  


Aline walks past a sign that reads: “Catarina Loss, Healer” with a sigh of relief. There are rows of cabbages growing in the garden next to the hut and Magnus pounces back and forth, yapping at them to hurry. Alec has lost consciousness and he’s heavy, even with Valentine supporting him on the other side.

They’re almost there, nearing a colorful house made out of wood. The roof is covered in pink moss, except for a window, standing between two wooden chimneys. It must be cold inside when there isn’t a fire running, Aline thinks as she knocks on the door, painted sky blue. Why else would you need two chimneys?

The door opens to reveal a woman with white hair and dark blue rags hanging from her small frame. Her welcoming smile and warm brown cheeks make her face appear rounder when she lets them in. Once inside, she gestures at Aline and Valentine to come in and lie Alec down on a cot beneath the stairs. They must lead upstairs, Aline muses, where she saw the window earlier.

Valentine sags down on the only chair, and Aline finally allows herself to lean against the wall, sliding down to sit on the pink rug near the entrance. She was right, it’s cold inside, and something simmers in a blue cauldron on the other side of the room. The shelves are filled to the brim with magical ingredients Aline has no intention to look at too closely.

Catarina brushes past her to go have a look at Alec. Magnus follows, hot on her heels, but not making a sound. Aline fiddles with the heart-shaped locket in her pocket, glad that her hand stopped glowing at least. The enkeli has mostly disappeared, leaving nothing but the shadow of the rune, charcoal lines on her skin. Aline doesn’t dwell on the meaning of this, and snaps a piece of string from her tunic, turning it into a makeshift necklace.

“Magnus, what happened?” Catarina whispers, but she doesn’t look at the fox.

“The Seelie Queen is taking over Idris,” Magnus explains, licking his front paw.

Catarina sighs like it was bound to happen someday. Maybe it was meant to be, Aline thinks when she glances at the enkeli on her hand. They have to do something to stop Jonathan and the Seelie Queen. If the Mortal Sword can break curses, they need it. 

It goes without saying, so Cat doesn’t comment, simply staring at Alec with worry creasing her white eyebrows. Her simple presence seems to comfort him. Alec stops shivering and the black lines on his neck recede when she brushes her hands over him, a blue glow emanating from her palms.

“He doesn’t have much time. Only drinking from the Mortal Cup could save him,” Catarina tells them at last.

“There is no time to lose then,” Valentine declares, jumping to his feet.

Magnus spins on his paws and growls, flashing bright, sharp fangs in the light of Catarina’s living room. Aline pats her sword tiredly, but there is no need, the Prime Minister freezes in the middle of the hut, watching the fox warily. Valentine sits back down slowly, holding his hands up for Magnus to see. It does little to appease the fox.

“You stay here, I don’t trust you. Aline and I will go.”

“I’ll watch him,” Cat agrees instantly.

Magnus backs away from Valentine slowly to come and stand next to her. Now this, is something Aline can get behind. If there is any way to save Helen, she’ll try her best to make it happen. She owes this to the princess, Aline failed to protect Helen when she was the only thing standing between her and the Seelie Queen. 

She might even have the means to make up for her weakness now. Aline has never shied away from her responsibilities, and this is all her fault. She stands up, sliding the heart-shaped locket onto the string of her necklace, and ties it safely around her neck before adjusting the bow and quiver on her back with the rest of her weapons.

“Wait, drink this before you go, you’ll need all the energy you can get,” Catarina calls, fumbling with various vials.

The warlock hands one of them to Aline, filled with a red liquid, and gestures to take a sip. Aline complies, swallowing immediately in case it tastes foul. It’s like water though, and a second later she feels restored, stronger than a moment before, as though waking up from a good night of sleep.

“Thank you,” she tells Catarina, nodding.

Cat smiles back, and pours some drops of another vial, filled with a blue liquid, in Magnus’ waiting muzzle. The fox looks significantly better a moment later, his orange fur free of dust and dirt. Some hair is swept into a prominent tuft between his golden pierced ears, streaked with black, and Aline is half tempted to ask for another vial to take with them, just in case.

“You’ll need a boat and a lantern to get across Lake Lyn,” Valentine suggests before she can voice her thoughts.

He’s right. The Lake is covered in fog when night falls and in the early hours of the morning. Aline looks around and resolutely takes the iron wrought lantern hanging from the wall near the door. She leaves the bow and arrow in exchange, in case Alec needs them, and smiles apologetically to Catarina, but the warlock waves her concern away.

“I’ll tell Ragnor to get the boat ready for you,” Cat replies. She scribbles a note on a piece of parchment that goes up in flames as soon as she’s done. 

A fire message, Aline realizes. Magnus doesn’t wait any longer though. He paws at the door until it opens with a sparkle of magic, and tilts his head in invitation for Aline to follow him.

“Good luck,” Catarina calls after them.

“The future of Idris depends on you,” Valentine echoes the sentiment.

  


* * *

  


Aline rushes towards the boat that awaits them on the shore. She knocks pebbles around and the impact of the round stones on the water echoes in the clearing like distant thunder as she trudges towards the lake. The white markings on the canoe are a silver lining in the ever present fog that covers the area. It hovers in heavy clouds, seemingly exhaling when the breeze blows through the surrounding forest with a forlorn sigh. 

The surface of Lake Lyn lays still beneath, frozen in fear.

Magnus hops in the canoe and Aline shakes off the lingering hesitation that weighs on her shoulders. What is there to wonder about? The spirit of the Hero chose her, somehow, and Aline knows exactly what she has to do. She might fail, but she’d rather die trying than give up on the kingdom of Idris now. Alec needs the antidote too, and if there is the slightest chance Aline can break Helen’s curse, she owes it to the princess, and even to herself, to try and right her wrong.

Aline nods to herself with this new-found determination and secures the lantern they borrowed from Catarina at the bow of the boat. It bathes them in gold, the light familiar and comforting, as though pushing off the branches from the trees that reaching out for them from the uncanny forest that surrounds the lake. Aline doesn’t waste any more time, she pushes the canoe in the water, and jumps in as it glides across the surface of Lake Lyn.

She settles on the small bench, grabbing the paddle at the bottom of the boat. They have a long way to go, and the fog swallows them as soon as she starts rowing. The only light comes from the iron-wrought lantern swinging at the front of the boat. It makes Magnus’ fox fur stand out, bright orange like fire. He flicks his tail in time with Aline’s movements, facing the shrine in the distance.

“Do you think there is something? Out there?” she whispers.

The fog seems to move along with them, and every now and then, Aline somehow feels a presence. It’s just a shadow, hidden among the billowing smoke, something dark and threatening that she can never quite catch in the glow of the lantern. It keeps out of the light, but Aline feels like it’s watching them intently, waiting for the chance to drag them down, to the bottom of the lake.

“Let’s not wait to find out,” Magnus replies gravely.

  
[full size here, (c)Spark](https://i.imgur.com/lhyWRwv.png)

Aline nods, and rows faster. The paddle breaks the surface of the lake with ease and each back and forth of Aline’s arms propels them closer to the island in the middle of Lake Lyn. There, pulling away from the fog, four walls and a majestic roof, with one single stained glass window above the wooden doors of the shrine.

She can see the ancestral depiction of the Hero of Men drinking from the Mortal Cup and seizing the Mortal Sword on the glass, in shades of crimson, the reminder of a war long gone. The enkeli burns away on Aline’s hand, lines drawn in charcoal and the promise to never let it come to that again. Aline has to stop the Seelie Queen.

“There we are,” Magnus exclaims, leaning forward eagerly.

The boat comes to a stop on the shore of the island, and Magnus crawls out to inspect their surroundings, his fox eyes shining in the golden glow of the lantern. Aline follows, and stands with her hands on her hips in front of the heavy wooden doors.

“I don’t suppose you can magic them open?”

Just as she says it, the doors unlock and slide inward. Magnus peers at her, light flashing off the three golden rings that pierce his right ear. His forelock is swept high between his ears, black streaks in the orange fur, and he nods decisively before going in.

Aline frowns, and although there is nothing suspicious to be heard, she unsheathes her sword as she follows him. It’s dark inside, and no light filters in through the stained glass window. The door slams shut behind them, and the sound of wood crashing against centuries old stone runs through Aline with the anxious beat of her heart like war drums.

“Damn it,” Magnus swears.

He weaves between her legs, the flick of his tail a small comfort in the dark, and comes to stand protectively in front of her. She can feel the shrine towering above them, but there is only darkness around, or so she thinks, as she can’t hear or see anything. Her grip on the hilt of the sword tightens. She takes a careful step forward, and it echoes like rain drops in the darkest night.

The light comes abruptly, and torches — lined up along the walls — spark to life with a roar to reveal the hall of the shrine. Shadows fall from the ceiling, giant wings and undecipherable blobs come down with a shriek, like the distressed scream of crystal breaking. 

It starts raining demons then, and Magnus snarls, jumping on the nearest creature.

Aline calls after him, but she loses sight of the fox in the fray. She can barely distinguish the occasional burst of magic coming from Magnus in the light of the fire, and hopes the fox can hold his own. Aline has to move already, quick on her feet to duck a flurry of claws and fangs that belong to nothing in particular, but the mass of demons crawling in the shrine. 

There is only one way: ahead. Aline ducks behind her shield as she slashes her way through the legion of demons, sure-footed and her weapon the extension of her mind. It makes sense, she thinks distantly. Her thoughts flicker on the edge of her sword. Demons would gather where the Mortal Instruments are, survive off the inherent magic that linger in the Sword and the Cup. It’s better this way too, because most people in Alicante and the surrounding villages can’t defend themselves against mere creatures of shadows.

Demons thrive for blood and fear, a thirst that nothing can clench, but the death of the unfortunate victims. Aline’s sword is the purest steel, forged in the heat of fire. She has nothing to fear, and nothing to lose either. Demons crash against her shield and she pushes them back until they stumble and fall back in the fray, giving her more room to move.

If Aline fails now, Alec will die from the poison, and it will be painful, even with the help of Catarina’s magic. As for Helen, she will be forever trapped in wood, and Aline fears that the princess is still conscious, aware of the cursed that was placed over her. Aline can’t give up on either of them, she thinks, slashing through a spiky tentacle, then another.

What do they intend to do with Idris, if the Seelie Queen takes over Idris, Jonathan by her side? Aline fears for the people she loves, because the Seelie Queen has likely been plotting her revenge for centuries now, and the people are the most likely to pay the price of her long-bred hatred. Aline can’t let the people of Idris down, and her sword is light in her hand, but sharp enough to cut through the thick skin of yet another demon.

Her right hand is warm, thrumming with the glow of the enkeli, and soon enough the demons recoil from the light, clearing her path.

Aline can see it now, the hilt of the Mortal Sword buried in the commemorative stele, the adamas stone slab standing at the center of the shrine. Witchlight shines right above the blade, carved into the golden handle, dim and flickering. Aline walks up to the stele and drops her weapon to grab the hilt of the Mortal Sword, covering the rune-stone with her glowing hand, and pulls it out. 

Light floods the shrine then, and the demons crumble to specks of dust at her feet.

Magnus stares at her, amber eyes burning as magic sparks near his orange paws. He’s disheveled, the forelock of hair curling down between his eyes and when he sits, Aline notices the white fur on his chest is covered in dirt. The stained glass windows gleam in colorful lights behind him, retelling the Hero’s journey in the past, and Aline sees herself in this tale as old as time.

She knows what to do, and straightens with the weight of responsibilities looming over her. Alec cannot wait much longer, and Aline loathes the thought of Helen trapped in wood, helpless and alone. Moreover, it’s the fate of her people that depends on Aline. 

She glances at the Mortal Sword, gleaming in her hand still, and the inscription written on the blade. It feels right, words she has always known even though she never spoke them. Hail and farewell, banishing curses and demons alike. The spirit of the Hero thrums in her veins and at her very core.

“Ave atque vale,” she whispers, and wields the Mortal Sword above her head.

Aline stumbles with the rush of power, and the enkeli on her hand flashes once, then fades to black.

Where the fox sat, stands now a man, with a dark red cloak billowing behind him and three golden rings on his ear. Magnus’ copper skin has a healthy glow, to her relief, and his hair is swept up into spikes, a ginger streak standing out in the middle. Aline smiles weakly, and gasps in understanding when Magnus meets her gaze: his eyes remain those of a fox.

“Are you okay?” she inquires, lowering the Mortal Sword.

“I am, thanks to you,” Magnus replies. “Where is the Mortal Cup? We must hurry.”

The warlock is right. He moves his hands when he speaks, and Aline gives him a wide berth as he paces the length of the shrine. Maybe there is hope after all. She released him from his curse with the Mortal Sword, so she can save Helen too. The Mortal Cup should be there, somewhere. Aline can save Helen and Alec.

She finally allows herself to believe.

She glances at her beloved sword, forgotten near the slabs of adamas. The enkeli rune is engraved on the stele, and Aline sheathes the Mortal Sword on her back to press the palm of her right hand against the rune. It’s nothing but instinct, but it pays off. The slabs of stone splits in the middle and slides down to reveal a golden cup.

“Perfect,” Magnus calls out.

Aline nods and snatches the Mortal Cup. She slides the golden item in the waistband of her pants and hides it underneath her green tunic. Then, she retrieves her usual sword, and turns to Magnus. The warlock flicks his fingers with a flourish, and the space in front of him contorts wildly, taking on a deep shade of blue that swirls away to unseen depths.

“This portal will take us directly to Catarina’s hut,” he explains.

She follows Magnus through the swirling magic and Aline feels like she walked beneath a waterfall. They reappear outside of Catarina’s hut, dry and with every limb where it should be, so Aline gives a chuckle of relief and hurries inside with Magnus. 

Maybe she was meant to save the kingdom, she decides when she glances at the enkeli on her right hand. She won’t give up now, and once Helen is safe, Aline will have proven she can be with the princess.

Valentine jumps to his feet at the sight of them, but freezes on the middle of the pink rug near the entrance. He gives Magnus a respectful nod and stays out of the way, and Aline wonders if they can trust him. Everything Valentine told them so far is true.

Catarina stands up from the cot without a word, leaving room for Magnus beneath the stairs. The warlock bends over Alec, and his fox eyes widen at the state Alec is now in. He hovers for a moment, amber eyes raking over Alec. Magnus eventually deems that Alec’s state is stable enough, and pecks his lover on the forehead with tender care.

“I did all I could, but if you can’t save him now...” Catarina whispers.

Aline gives them a moment longer before coming closer with the Mortal Cup. Alec’s complexion has turned ashen now, and dark veins spread from his parched up lips, crawling up to his eyelids. He’s barely breathing and Catarina looks exhausted. The warlock powers through, and takes the offered golden cup, filling it with water.

The liquid takes on a silver shine in the Mortal Cup, and Catarina brings it to Alec’s lips, massaging his throat to help him swallow.

Nothing happens at first, and Aline looks away. She can’t bear the thought that they’re too late. Has she failed again? She’s not strong enough, not fast enough, even with the spirit of the Hero pulsing through the enkeli on her hand. What about Helen then? Was the princess doomed from the beginning? Aline breathes in deeply, but it feels like she’s drowning.

Dawn is breaking outside, and the light of the sun seeps through the window. Sunshine crawls up the pink rug and past Valentine to brush Alec’s forehead on the cot. Magnus holds onto Alec’s hand, whispering sweet nothings, and Aline draws from his calm to look at Alec again. The dark veins have receded from his face now, and disappear steadily down his neck.

Aline releases the breath she’s been holding and her shoulders’ sag in relief. It’s going to be alright. Alec will survive, and Aline regains hope of saving Helen. She nods once, clenching her hands into fists to remind herself that she’s strong and capable, and the spirit of the Hero lives in her. Aline can do this. She has to.

“I’m here my love. You’re gonna be okay,” Magnus whispers to Alec.

“What,” Alec rasps, “what about Helen? Is Aline...”

“I’m here,” Aline tells him, and leans in to smile.

“Good.”

Catarina lets out a sigh of relief behind Aline, and even Valentine looks like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Alec starts coughing again, but his voice is clearer now, and he looks healthier already. Magnus brushes hair out of Alec’s eyes, comforting him.

“Let’s go then,” Alec tries to stand up.

“No, you need to rest,” Catarina cuts in. “Let’s change the sheets and lay him down again,” she tells Valentine.

Alec groans in pain, but stops struggling when Aline helps Magnus to lift Alec off the cot. He can barely stand on his own, and seems to admit defeat while the Prime Minister busies himself changing the sheets. Valentine’s luxurious clothes are dirty and frayed at the edges now, but the man doesn’t seem to mind. His bald head shines with sweat by the time they lay Alec on the cot again, and he removed all the jewelry and ornaments on his body since Aline and Magnus left for Lake Lyn.

“Thank you,” Magnus eventually lets out, having undoubtedly noticed the same thing.

“It’s the least I can do. I’ll come with you.”

“Do you know where Helen is?” Aline asks Valentine.

“I assume the Seelie Queen would have kept her in the throne room,” the Prime Minister replies. “She can’t afford to lose her only leverage should things go wrong.”

“I can portal us there,” Magnus offers.

Indeed, they celebrated Alec and Helen’s almost wedding in the throne room and Magnus was right there. Aline doesn’t think the warlock can forget about the very room in which Alec left Helen at the altar and walked up to Magnus in front of the entire royal delegation and the most important people in Alicante. He knows exactly where they’re going.

"I'll be back soon, my love," Magnus adds, kissing Alec's cheek.

Catarina brings Alec something to drink, a red potion not unlike the one she gave Aline earlier, and Alec sighs in relief. He regains some color in his face and sags against his pillows, squeezing Magnus' hand once.

"Be careful," Alec tells them.

The Mortal Sword is hanging from her back, so Aline hands the sword her father forged to Valentine. He nods in thanks before turning to Magnus, both of them ready to defeat the Seelie Queen and Jonathan. Aline shares a look with Magnus before stepping through the portal, and his fox eyes are dark and wary. They’ll need to keep an eye on the Prime Minister, who knows how Valentine will react once he comes face to face with his son.

  


* * *

  


The throne room is empty, and bare of ornaments. Aline steps out of the portal with the Mortal Sword at the ready, but there is nothing in there except for the throne: a narrow construct of adamas that reaches for the ceiling. It doesn’t look comfortable, Aline can’t help but think, it’s no wonder Helen never wants to spend her day sitting on the throne.

The princess stands next to it, trapped in wood.

Aline takes off her green hat to pay Helen her respect and climbs on the dais to walk up to the princess. Guilt wraps around her heart painfully, and threatens the delicate love she bears for the blonde. How can Aline pretend to love Helen right when she can’t even protect the princess? She feels sorry, for failing the woman she loves, and for herself too. Aline wishes she had been strong enough to defend Helen.

There is no time to lose, and there never was, not to dwell on what is already done, anyway. The green carpet that leads to the throne muffles the sound of her steps, and the Mortal Sword seems heavier in her hand. Everything feels eerie. The throne room would be bustling with energy on any other day. 

Helen’s skin is rugged, the bark of a tree, and her dress is covered in dead leaves and moss, still life falling to pieces. Aline misses the summer shades of the princess’ eyes, and the shine of her jewelry. She doesn’t dare touching Helen, whose hair looks like it’s about to crack and drop to the ground. Aline never thought the princess fragile, and she hopes she’ll get a chance to hold Helen’s hand one last time once this is over. She needs to apologize at least, and say goodbye probably. Aline endangered Idris when she failed to protect Helen, and she cannot imagine that the princess will ever forgive her.

Aline raises the Mortal Sword above her head, breathing in, but the enkeli on her right hand doesn’t glow up this time.

“Someone is coming,” Magnus whispers before Aline can speak.

It’s too late, a gust of wind comes rushing into the room, and Aline flies across the dais, crashing against the throne. The arm digs painfully between her ribs and she drops the Mortal Sword on the ground, her chest heaving. Not again, Aline thinks through the haze of pain, trying to catch her breath.

The Seelie Queen strolls into the throne room, magic flickering between her nimble fingers. There is an enkeli on her left hand, dark red and corrupted. Her toga flows between her legs like milk, and Aline can hear power rushing into the room with the faerie. She was never a match against the Queen, was she? Even with the spirit of the Hero living through her now, Aline fears she cannot defeat the incarnation of hatred. The Seelie Queen has been waiting to avenge herself for centuries.

“Not so fast,” the Queen sing-songs. “I see that I was mistaken,” she adds, looking at Aline.

Jonathan follows her, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, wild and unhinged. He stares like he can’t quite see who they are: his eyes dark orbs with no sclera nor iris. Valentine steps forward instantly, the sword hanging carelessly from his limp hand.

“Do not worry, my Queen. I will take care of the Hero of Men,” Jonathan vows.

“Jonathan? What have you done...” the Prime Minister laments.

“He dreamed of rightful wars and conquest, I gave them to him,” the Seelie Queen laughs. “He gave me the throne I’ve always wanted in return.”

“No!”

Valentine rushes up to his son, and goes to grab Jonathan’s shoulders to shake him. Jonathan knocks the sword out of the Prime Minister’s hand, and strikes like lightning. Crimson flashes through Valentine’s frayed shirt, spreading down his back in rivulets of blood that bring the Prime Minister to his knees.

Valentine’s eyes are already empty. 

Magnus’ magic booms in the throne room in flames of white and gold. It rushes across the dais with a roar bursting against the Seelie Queen’s magical shield. The sound is deafening and Aline scrambles to her feet, grabbing the sword, and hides behind the throne, her knuckles turning white when she grips the Mortal Sword with all her might.

When the burning lights finally recede, Magnus and the Seelie Queen have stumbled outside. Leftover magic flutters to the ground and into a path of withered petals, leading to the throne. Jonathan takes a step over Valentine’s body with a high-pitched cackle, like nails on a blackboard.

“Not on my watch,” Aline seethes, taking a step forward to stand in the way.

It is _her_ sword he’s holding, she thinks in cold blooded rage. Aline’s father forged the sword Jonathan wields, and it was never meant to do any harm. It’s the weapon Aline has always used to teach Helen sword fighting, and the one Aline planned to use to protect the woman she loves. Jonathan made her sword an instrument of death, and she’ll make him _pay_.

She flips the Mortal Sword once, familiar with its weight now, even as it spins in her hand, and ducks when Jonathan strikes. He uncoils like a snake, ready to bite, but Aline is one with the Mortal Sword. It answers her every move, and carries her further than ever before.

This is it. Aline will either succeed or die trying. She ducks again, light on her feet, and swings her weapon with all her might. Anger runs through her veins, and she has every intention to draw blood in this fight. The future of Idris depends on the outcome of this battle, because the Seelie Queen and Jonathan won’t underestimate her again.

Aline spins around Jonathan, like a shooting star bursting out of the endless black sky that spreads on his face, out of the corner of his eyes, and disappears in his blind spot. She thrusts her blade through his chest like dawn breaking every morning before and forever after this day. There is no stopping the spirit that inhabits Aline, and the enkeli glows on her right hand, a heartbeat to the Mortal Sword she wields.

The blood-curdling scream of the Seelie Queen at Jonathan’s loss triggers the magic inherent to the Mortal Instruments. The pact they made dissolves with his demise, and he falls, a dead weight, to his knees. The Sword crackles with energy, the blade coming off immaculate when Aline steps away from Jonathan’s body.

She glances at Helen, trapped in wood still, and meets the princess’ unseeing eyes. Aline wishes she could right her wrong now, but it’s safer to take care of the Seelie Queen first. Even if she were to break the curse now, Helen would only be a liability, likely to be hurt or worse, cursed again. This way, the Seelie Queen can’t use the princess as a bargaining chip. Aline can break the curse any time and when she does, Helen’s freedom and safety will be the guarantee of peace for Idris.

“Soon, I promise,” Aline vows, and runs outside.

The throne room gives onto a balcony, where Magnus cornered the Seelie Queen against the baluster. The backdrop is gorgeous — Alicante stretching into the Imperishable Fields beneath, with Lake Lyn hiding beyond the distant forest —, and terrifying: there is nothing but stone and rocks down the cliff, below the balcony. The faerie’s red hair whips behind her in crimson light bolts, a stark contrast to the blue sky.

Aline can’t bring herself to care as she comes up next to the warlock.

The Seelie Queen has hurt them with all sorts of curses, from poisoning Alec, turning Magnus into a fox and Helen into a statue of wood. Aline has no reason to believe that the red haired faerie will stop this time, because the Seelie Queen was at war with Idris centuries ago and the Hero of Men gave her one chance to redeem herself. No more chances, Aline decides, widening her stance.

“This stops now.”

Magnus moves with her and they stalk forward, but the Seelie Queen refuses to admit defeat. Aline sees the sphere of magic just as it flashes past the faerie’s fingers, and throws her entire body in front of Magnus, swinging the Mortal Sword against the spell. It bounces off the legendary sword and buzzes across the balcony to hit the Seelie Queen’s chest.

The faerie stumbles, lightning coursing through her body, and the red enkeli flickers on her left hand, oozing blood and putrid magic, but she doesn’t relent and pushes magic forward again. The spell lashes at Aline with green vines, and she bats them off with wild slashes of the Mortal Sword.

“Get down!” Magnus yells behind her.

Aline drops into a crouch instantly, and a wall of fire rushes above her, burning the vines in its wake. Above them, the sun stalls high in the sky, but Aline can’t afford to look at the blinding light right now. She runs up to the Seelie Queen under the cover of Magnus’ magic fire. In one swift move, she slashes the faerie’s chest with the Mortal Sword.

The Seelie Queen strikes back just as fast and Aline chokes, feeling like the faerie stabbed her in the gut. She drops back before the Seelie Queen can do more damage and glances down her chest, checking for a wound, but she can’t find any blood, just the vivid pain. The red haired faerie’s magic is a vicious power, one that strengthens Aline’s belief that the Seelie Queen’s reign has come to an end.

“You okay?” Magnus checks in, and she nods slowly.

She shakes her head once again to clear her thoughts from the lingering pain, and the tip of her green hat flies left and right, a comforting weight on her head. Aline straightens and spins the Mortal Sword in her hand, catching her breath.

“Idris will fall!” the Seelie Queen prophezies.

She backs away, against the baluster, and retreats into a cocoon of thorns and vines. The red haired faerie sends sharp leaves and pointy twigs their way with a cry of outrage. Magnus erects a magical barrier to dispel them, and the greenery disappears in a burst of flames long before it reaches Aline.

“Let’s put an end to this madness,” she tells Magnus.

The warlock hums in agreement and sends magic flying across the balcony like arrows, light piercing through the Seelie Queen’s last defenses. The faerie holds her own, but she has nowhere to go, except towards her inexorable end. Aline draws strength from the enkeli on her right hand, and charges.

Magnus’ magic is her only shield against the Seelie Queen’s thorns and vines, but it’s more than enough. The stone beneath the soles of her feet propels her forward and she bursts through the greenery that protects the faerie. Aline stabs her with the Mortal Sword, a single blow to finish the Seelie Queen off.

The faerie falls to her knees without a sound, and the Mortal Sword gives off a silver glow, absorbing what was left of the corrupted enkeli’s power. It fades to a rusty scar on the Seelie Queen’s left hand, and she sags to the side, an empty shell of the incarnation of hatred.

  


* * *

  


The sun caresses Aline’s face like a lover, and she breathes in deeply, turning around as she opens her eyes. Magnus gives a tentative smile, magicking his coat clean of dirt and blood, before styling his hair back up like slaying evil queens is something he does for a hobby. It might be, Aline muses with a chuckle, the warlock is mysterious, and nobody but Alec seems to really know him.

“Thank you,” she tells him, but Magnus shakes his head.

“No. Thank you. I couldn’t have done anything with you. You saved us all. And, if I’m not mistaken, I think there is someone waiting for you,” he gestures vaguely towards the throne room, winking.

Aline squares her shoulders and takes his advice. Helen is just where they left her. The blacksmith’s daughter wields the Mortal Sword above her head, closing her eyes. The enkeli lights up on her hand, warm and familiar now, and she feels power rushing through her and out of the Mortal Sword when she whispers the words engraved on the blade.

“Ave atque vale.”

Sawdust falls off Helen’s figure with a huff and reveals the princess just like Aline remembers her. She’s healthy, but her eyes are bright with repressed tears. Aline rushes up the green carpet and stumbles on the dais, reaching out without thinking to comfort the blonde. She cups Helen’s face in her free hand, brushing the princess’ high cheekbones with a tender thumb.

“Are you alright?”

Helen nods and shakes her head at the same time, “The last thing I saw was you and I was so scared you were...” she doesn’t finish her sentence.

“I’m fine,” Aline hurries to say. “I’m sorry I let you down.”

“What are you talking about? You saved Idris. You saved me.”

The princess smiles, like dawn breaking on her face and Aline blinks slowly, momentarily blinded. She can’t quite believe it, even now that Helen nudges her face into the palm of Aline’s hand. Aline remembers her fear, and her guilt, and she remembers the promises she made too, so she leans in and captures Helen’s lips like she’s always meant to. 

The princess kisses her back, wrapping her arms around Aline, who knocks her head against Helen’s headpiece in her enthusiasm.

The turquoise blue rupee gives a playful shine when they break apart, and Helen’s laugh echoes in the throne room like bells. It warms Aline’s heart and she leans in to kiss the blonde’s forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin, and the scent of salt and flowers. She slides her hand down Helen’s face and neck, squeezing the blonde’s shoulder to convince herself Helen is here, safe and sound, before lacing their hands.

They step on the balcony together, but Magnus is nowhere to be seen. The sun winks at them when a white, puffy cloud drifts past and Aline sheathes the Mortal Sword with a sense of formality to grab the heart-shaped locket from her neck instead. She offers it to Helen, palm up, and takes a deep breath.

“I wanted to give this to you, but I never had the chance. I’ve been in love with you for years now.”

“Thank you.”

Helen glances at the ruby encased in gold, a private smile playing on her lips, and gathers her hair in her gloved hands. She bows her head, pushing her long blond hair aside to let Aline clasp the locket around her neck. Once Aline is done, the princess peers at the blacksmith’s daughter and smiles again, biting her lips.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while too,” Helen confesses.

Aline cannot hold back her smile, and captures Helen’s lips in another kiss.

  
[full size here, (c)Spark](https://i.imgur.com/lny2jss.png)

**Author's Note:**

> This collab was amazing from start to finish, feel free to browse [these tumblr posts](https://myulalie.tumblr.com/tagged/femslash-february) if you're curious about our process. Thank you so much for reading, please let us know how you feel about the story and the artworks!


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